


Patience

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Kissing, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn and Humor, Teasing, getting caught
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 12:03:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11966994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: Theon is a tease.





	Patience

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a valar morekinks [gif prompt](http://valar-morekinks.livejournal.com/7123.html?thread=3147475)

“Theon,” growls Robb as Theon gently teases one nipple with his teeth, “could you hurry up? My mum will be home any second now.”

Theon scoffs. “Relax, Stark,” he says, nipping Robb a little harder, “we've got plenty of time.” Technically speaking, Mrs. Stark is due home in about fifteen minutes. Which means she's _actually_ due home in about three hours, because that woman is hilariously overworked – Robb must have gotten his pathological overachieving somewhere, after all. “Besides, you don't want me to rush, do you?” he pulls back, smirking down at Robb laying on his back on the family couch, plaid shirt wide open and revealing his toned chest, threadbare old jeans threatening to tear open with how hard he is. “I'm enjoying the view.”

Robb huffs in irritation. “You might have more time to enjoy the view if we weren't in the middle of the living room.” He tries to sit up, but Theon just has to playfully push his shoulders and back down he goes.

“Uh-uh,” Theon tells him. “You're not going anywhere.”

He might be pushing it, given he knows it is well within Robb's capacity to pin him down and just _take_ what he wants (and maybe that's part of why he's such a tease, because secretly he always comes buckets when Robb does that, not that he'd ever admit it) – but Robb doesn't seem at all inclined to do that right now, leading Theon to suspect that secretly, he kind of likes Theon making him wait. Not getting everything he wants so easily, like usual. Robb's always been more patient than him, after all.

Robb's hips arch up as he tries to rub himself against Theon's thigh, but Theon pulls away before he can make contact. He's pretty hard himself, so it's not an easy decision to make, but he can't let on. Robb groans. “Tease,” he mutters.

Theon's mouth hangs open in mock-indignation. “Me? A tease?” he asks and pinches Robb's other nipple hard, making him whimper. Then he grins. “It's not teasing if I never follow through.”

Robb whines pitifully and reaches for him, his hand finding Theon's hip and squeezing. _Fuck, he's strong._ “Theon – don't–”

“Come on, Stark. What's the magic word?”

“ _Please_ –”

“Shh, shh, it's okay.” Theon quietens him with a kiss, wet and dirty, and he thrusts his tongue into Robb's mouth a few times, mimicking something he's not quite brave enough to suggest actually doing yet. Robb groans and returns it, and this time when he thrusts up, Theon can't quite resist moving down to meet him, hissing in pleasure as he rubs his own cock against Robb's. “You're right,” he whispers against Robb's lips, “I'm only teasing. I'm not going anywhere.”

Then he moves his mouth to Robb's jaw, sucking hard enough to leave a hickey – Robb blushes so much when he gets a hickey, but Theon's seen him staring in the mirror at them and biting his lip, the boy loves it. It's not like everyone doesn't know they're fucking anyway. His hand moves gently across the expanse of Robb's chest, feeling the rises and valleys of his abdomen, circling each nipple in turn gently, and softly he rocks his body against Robb's, getting lost in the pleasure. See, it's hard to tease when his perfect boyfriend is just so pretty.

“Theon,” Robb moans again, turning his head to give Theon better access to his neck, “please, I want – I need–

“Shh baby,” Theon says, moving his mouth back over Robb chest, taking the left nipple between his teeth again. “I'll take care of you.”

Robb groans, his body undulating. “You'll be the death of me,” he mutters.

Theon just shrugs. “Worse ways to go.”

Slowly, he brings one hand to rest over Robb's jean-covered crotch, squeezing ever so slightly. Robb gasps and immediately bucks up into it, so Theon pulls his head away. Robb groans loudly. “Come _on_ ,” he whines.

“Easy, Stark,” Theon smirks, slowly moving down further over Robb's body. “I'll make it worth your while, but I want it to last.” Robb looks bemused, and Theon drops his voice to a whisper. “I don't want to give it one lick and have you spurt all over my face.”

Robb makes a choked noise and bucks up again, this time into nothing. Theon chuckles as he crouches down, sticking his arse in the air shamelessly, and presses a gentle kiss to Robb's ribs. He wonders if he should specify it's the 'one lick' he has much more of a problem with than 'all over my face'. Teasingly, he circles the button of Robb's jeans with a finger, and feels him shaking as he struggles not to thrust up again. “Such a good boy,” he cooes, and kisses him again, long, lewd and wet just above his navel. “Do you want your reward?”

He looks up for eye contact, but Robb has his eyes wedged firmly shut, trembling with frustrated pleasure. “You're the worst,” he whines. “The actual worst.”

“You love me,” Theon grins.

“I have terrible taste.”

Theon huffs, and nips at Robb's skin. “Well that explains the shirt,” he mutters. Still, plaid or not, he probably has teased Robb enough now (not to mention, he's feeling a bit restricted himself), so finally he pops that button open, and Robb has to smother a noise, almost as if he's come just from that. Theon double-checks he hasn't, and then _slowly_ pushes the zipper down, not willing to rush even now, and Robb is panting as he shakes beneath him and–

“Robb! I'm just getting my keys, I won't be a se–”

Theon jumps back in a panic, terrified Mrs. Stark has actually come home on time for once, because one of the things about always being so stressed is that she can be _terrifying_ , especially if she catches her firstborn's no-good boyfriend about to defile him on the family couch, but Theon quickly realises, it's not Mrs. Stark. This person is a lot shorter, and male, and in a wheelchair.

Robb looks equally panicked, hurriedly sitting up and trying to get his shirt buttoned up as his brother wheels into the room. Bran just stares at them with a raised eyebrow, and for a long time, no-one speaks. Eventually, Bran sighs. “So, should I tell Mum and Dad your bed is broken?” he asks. “Because I think they'd like to avoid another family trip to IKEA if at all possible.”

Apparently, the Starks' last trip to IKEA was to get a new mirror for Robb's sisters' room; it ended with one of them having a sprained wrist and the other first degree burns. Theon is probably in trouble, given Bran has never been his biggest fan and this is unlikely to help, so he should try not to laugh – but it's hard, especially when Robb turns that shade of red. “No, that won't be necessary,” he mutters, doggedly avoiding both their eyes.

“...Right,” says Bran. “Well, I'm gonna go – somewhere else,” and he quickly grabs his keys off the table. “...Would you two mind cleaning that couch before anyone sits on it?”

But he wheels away and out the door before he gets an answer, and Robb just sighs deeply, collapsing onto the side of the couch. Theon has to laugh, but then Robb opens his eyes to glare, and Theon falters when he realises yeah, this is all his fault. Then it's his turn to sigh. “So, how many orgasms will it take to make you forget this humiliation?”

“Lots,” says Robb. “Better get started.”

 


End file.
